


Red III

by sal_si_puedes



Series: Red [5]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, Original Character Death(s), enter at own risk, heed the tags, honestly this is angsty as fuck, seriously you have been warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2194059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike is planning on selling their house in the Hamptons - because what point is there now in keeping it? </p><p>Set waaaaaay in the future, follows <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2170401">Red II</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red III

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a contribution to [Marvey Fic Challenges](marveyficchallenges.tumblr.com) challenge #001 (red).
> 
> Thank you, as always, to the marvelous naias, who's guided and coached me through this in the best possible way. You rock my world!!
> 
> I'm [sal-si-puedes](sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com) on tumbr.

The red-and-white sign swings swiftly in the wind when Mike drives up to the house, the gravel making that crackling sound under the tires of his car that had always meant weekend, vacation, peace and quiet to Mike. Home. Harvey. Today it means something else. Today it means goodbye.

Mike is tired and he just wants to get this over with but he remains seated in the car for a long while, just sitting there and staring at the house. He rubs his face with his hands and sighs. 

"Come on," he whispers and grabs the steering wheel tightly. "Come on." He swallows and closes his eyes for a moment. Taking a deep breath he lets go of the wheel and opens the driver's door. When his feet touch the gravel he bites his lips. The sound of the car door falling shut behind him is hollow and – even though he has given the door a good shove to fall shut himself – it startles him. He retrieves a large cardboard box from the trunk and holds it by its handle with his left hand. It's not heavy since it's empty but it feels as if its weight is trying to pull Mike to the ground. He knows he's dragging his feet but he doesn't seem to be able to help it.

Slowly walking towards the front door, he stores the car keys away in his right pocket and takes out the keys to the house. They weigh as heavy in his hand as the box and their jingle causes his eyes to sting. Mike takes the few steps to the patio slowly, clutching the keys tightly, stopping them from making that jingling sound. Before he inserts the main key into the key hole, he inhales deeply again, and before he turns the key to unlock the door he rests his forehead against the wood for a couple of seconds.

He straightens his back, turns the key and steps into the small but light entrance hall. Their windbreakers still hang on the slightly rickety coat rack and Mike really doesn't want to look but after he's dropped the keys onto the dresser and set the box onto the floor he turns and runs his hand over the dark blue one. He takes it from its hook and buries his nose in the soft cloth lining the inside. The faint trace of cologne and that unique scent he loves so much fill his senses and make his heart skip a beat.

"Harvey," he murmurs and inhales again. "I don't know if I can do this." He clutches the garment in his hands and exhales. "I'm not sure I can do this." He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Please. Don't make me do this."

Mike slowly opens the windbreaker's zipper, his fingers trembling ever so slightly, and slides his arms into the sleeves. He wraps the edges around himself tightly and closes his eyes. "Okay," he whispers after a while. "Okay…"

He picks up the box and starts in the sun room. A couple of books and a pencil, which Mike doesn't quite understand. Harvey never made notes in his books and he himself hasn't used a pencil since high school. More books in the living room and a tablet computer of which Mike unsure to whom it belongs. Those knives from the kitchen that Harvey used to love so much and that old picture of Scott and Willow, pinned to the fridge with a section-mark-shaped magnet, one of Harvey's birthday present from Scott. 

Mike passes Scott's and Willow's rooms. He knows they've been here a couple of days before. He runs his fingers over the markings in Scott's door frame lightly and over the dates that go along with them.

When he feels Harvey's hand on his shoulder for a brief moment and Harvey's breathing against the nape of his neck, he gasps and squeezes his eyes shut tightly. _They grow up so fast, don't they?_ Harvey's voice a faint echo in his ears. _Mike._

When he enters the bathroom, he observes that the sun is already high in the sky. It has to be at least noon, and Mike doesn't know where the last two or three hours have gone. He takes a deep breath before he opens the cabinet over the sink. All he takes from it is the half empty bottle of Harvey's cologne, not daring to take off the cap and smell. He drops the bottle into the box and walks towards the door but he pauses and sets the box down. Reaching for the large charcoal-grey towel, he frowns and shakes his head briefly. But after a moment's hesitation he folds the towel and carefully places it in the box as well.

He's left the bedroom for last and he doesn't know how long he just stands there in the hallway, one hand on the door knob, the half-filled box at his feet, before he finds the strength to open the door and enter.

Sunlight streams in through the large windows and Mike sets the box down on the floor near the foot of the bed. There are not many clothes in the closet. They've taken their summer wardrobe back to Manhattan with them the last time they were here, planning to bring slightly warmer things with them the next time. This is the next time and there are no fall clothes in the trunk of their car.

Mike quickly takes the few items that are still there out of the closet, folds them and piles them on top of the bath towel. Running his palm over the bed cover, he walks around the bed to Harvey's side. Harvey's second pair of reading glasses sits on top of a hardcover book on his bedside table. Mike picks the glasses up and puts them on, squinting against the blurry sight. He shoves them up into his hair and picks up the book, leafing through the pages without really looking at them.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and keeps turning page after page of Harvey's book. Somewhere in the last third, Mike finds something between the pages. A yellowish piece of paper at first sight, but when Mike takes it out, he can see it's a photograph. _Pepper, summer 2017_ it says in Harvey's goddamn handwriting on the back and Mike puts it back between the pages without ever turning it around. He carefully closes the book and lets it drop onto the cover on his side of the bed.

"God, Harvey," Mike whispers to the empty room. "I miss you so much." He bites his lips and shakes his head. "I'm selling it." He swallows. "I can't—It would be—It's—I'm keeping the town house, though."

His thoughts go back to that night two weeks ago. Wailing sirens outside and the ambulance at full speed. Harvey's hand tightly clutched in Mike's and an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. Mike mouthing silent pleas and the doctor being busy adjusting the monitor.

When Harvey's eyes had opened and found Mike's, there had been so much pain and fear in them that it had nearly caused Mike to faint. It had taken him two or three seconds to understand that those feelings were for him, that Harvey felt all that on his behalf – and that had been the moment the truth had hit him. Mike had realized that Harvey had known then that he wasn't going to make it this time. 

Harvey's first heart attack had occurred two years ago and even though he had made a full recovery, there had been a faint hint of pain in his eyes ever since. Only Mike hadn't understood, not completely, not until that moment in that ambulance two weeks ago, where that had come from. 

"Harvey," Mike had said, making his voice sound as firm and calm as possible. He'd brought Harvey's hand to his lips and had kissed Harvey's knuckles tenderly. When he had started to speak again, his voice had trembled and cracked after just a few words. "Don't worry." By then Mike's cheeks had been wet with tears. "Don't worry, baby. I'll be fine." He had run his palm over Harvey's forehead and through his hair. "I'll be fine."

Harvey'd tried to take a deep breath and had reached for the oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. Despite Mike's muffled "Don't—" he'd taken the mask off and had drawn a shuddering breath.

"Scott and Wills, they—" Harvey'd coughed and had squeezed his eyes shut. 

"They're meeting us there," Mike had told him and tightened his grip on Harvey's hand. 

"Tell them—" Another coughing fit had shaken Harvey's body and Mike had tried to soothe Harvey by gently stroking his arm.

"I will, baby, I will…" Mike's voice had faded then and he had bitten his lips. "I love you."

"Yeah, me too," Harvey'd whispered and had reached for Mike's cheek. "I love you so very, very much… Don't cry," he'd d added, his voice almost breaking, and his hand had fallen to lie by his side again. "Don't cry."

"Okay," Mike'd nodded and wiped his face with the back of his hand, looking aside. "I promise." He'd moved to put the mask back on again, but Harvey had stopped him, locking eyes with him once more.

"Mike—" Harvey had whispered and exhaled.

Slowly, Mike turns and lies down on top of the cover. He touches his face and finds his fingers wet. Rubbing his fingertips together he frowns as his breathing hitches in his chest. He bites back a groan and curls up on his side.

"I'm so sorry," he mutters against his fists. "I'm so sorry, Harvey. I _know_ I promised but I can't—I couldn't—"

And he'd been doing so well for all those many days afterwards. Not a single tear, not even when he was lying in their bed at night, awake and alone, since he had wiped his face and swallowed around that burning lump in his throat in that ambulance. Not when the beep signaling the lack of heartbeat had started to pierce his ears (his heart), not when it had stopped because they'd turned off the monitor. 

Not a single tear.

He'd even made it through all the handshakes and words. They'd all come, Louis, Donna and her family, Marcus and Sunny, old Mrs. Kennedy, the Johnson's, Rachel and Logan, and even Jessica – and they'd all wanted to shake their hands, his and Scott's and Willow's, and he'd made it through all of that without breaking his promise. Even through Marcus' eulogy and through Jessica's as well, his face ashen and his jaws clenched tightly.

He'd even made it through the band's rendition of "Hallelujah", but when Scott had let go of his hand and had risen from his seat next to him and had slowly walked to the front, Mike had felt his eyes begin to burn. And when Scott had taken Harvey's position in the band Harvey used to be a part of for so many years and had brought his father's clarinet to his lips and when the first sounds of one of Harvey's compositions had begun to fill the air, Mike had lost it. Willow had grabbed hold of his hand then and he'd had himself back under control by the time the ceremony was over, but he hadn't been able to get rid of that taste of salty bitterness for days.

He can taste it now. 

It takes him a long time to calm down. And after the tears and the shivers and the coughing have subsided, Mike rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling for god knows how many hours. 

When he rises again much later and places the book and Harvey's reading glasses on top of the clothes in the box the sun is already setting. He hurts, his whole body is aching and his eyes feel raw and puffy. He walks over to his bedside table and takes the small red Cartier box out of the drawer. He places it next to Harvey's glasses and picks up the box. 

He walks down the stairs, through the hallway and out of the front door. He sets the box down on the patio and locks up. The sunset has turned the sky almost red and Mike stuffs the keys into the pocket of Harvey's windbreaker. He takes a deep breath and reaches for his cell phone.

Pressing a number on speed dial, he closes his eyes and takes another deep breath.

"Wills?" He asks when someone answers on the other end. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. Listen—I can't. I can't do it."

The faintest hint of a smile appears on his face while he listens to something their daughter says on the other end of the line. 

"Yeah, kid. I _know_ you knew that I wouldn't." He nods while he listens for a couple of seconds. "Yes, please. Take it down. Yeah. Thank you." He clears his throat and adds: "I might stay for a couple of days." He nods again and runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, thank you. See you soon. Bye."

He walks over to where the sign is still swinging in the evening breeze and unhooks it. He props it up against the rear tire of his car and returns to the patio. He sits down on the stairs and hugs his legs. He rests his head on his knees and closes his eyes.

He can do this. He is not alone. Harvey is there with him like he always was and Mike knows that he will never leave. He is not alone. He can do this.


End file.
